Harry Crosby

Dissonance

You've slipped from out your evening gown, you museBefore the polished lookingglass, a handUnclasping frail corsage, while you peruseYour blushing charms. Your wayward eyes demandIntrigue, as slowly you remove the clothesWhich cling around your girlish loveliness.In silken stockings of the palest roseYour slender legs encased, twin gracefulnessBeyond compare, while all your perfumed hairComes tumbling down and glorybath of gold ;And thus you stand before me ivorybareCraving to yield in passion as of old.I take you in my arms yet am I sad,So many other loves have made you glad